The Runners: SYOC
by Graceful Petals
Summary: Being a hero wasn't so easy. Not for everyone. OPEN SYOC.
1. Chapter 1

**The Runners: SYOC**

**Author: Graceful Petals**

**Summary: **_Being a hero wasn't so easy. Not for everyone. _

**Rating: **Teen for Violence, Language, Gore, Graphic Descriptions, Suggested Themes, and Death.

**Estimated Chapter Count: **20 – 35 Chapters with a possible Sequel.

**What You Can Expect from Me: **Updates with 2,000 + Words. Profile information, shout outs, sneak peeks, and dedications.

**What I Expect from You: **Review with constructive criticism and not 'Good Chapter' and occasional ideas.

**I'm Looking For . . . **

~ Two/Three Meta-Humans

~ Two/Three Humans

~ Two/Three Aliens

~ Unknown Amount of Minor Characters

**Additional Information: **PLEASE UNDERSTAND THIS BEFORE YOU SUBMIT. In order for my story idea to work, I will be manipulating your characters background. Basically, all the characters are going to have none each other before this story even starts. They have history that will not be highlighted immediately. I'm taking a lot of liberties with your characters, if you're not okay with that than do not submit.

**Rules: **

**You may only submit one character unless I specifically ask you for another one.**

**You must have an account to submit a character. **

**Mary-Sues will not be accepted. I need multiply personality flaws in order to make the character grow in the story. If they have unlimited power, they will not be accepted. **

**Your character may not in any way, shape or form be related to any original DC characters. At all. This is part of what I consider Mary-Suing. **

**Please put 'I have Read the Rules' in the Family part of the Application. **

**There can be a maximum of two powers, and no things like the Superman's Power. **

**Try not to make everyone a hero with a tragic backstory. Some heroes need to have nice family lives. **

**You must send me your application through PM. **

**Last, but most importantly, put effort and detail into the application. I like detail.**

**_Meta-Human Character Form_**

Full Name: _(Also include nicknames).___

Age: _(Needs to be about thirteen to nineteen, try to send in older characters as they will be more likely used frequently). _

Birthday:

Home City: _(Description of the City). _

Powers:

Personality: _(Full Sentences. At least a paragraph)._

Personality Flaws:

Best Traits:

Fears:

Talents/Skills:

Weakness:

Appearance: _(Hair Color, Eye Color, Skin Tone, Height, Body Type, Birthmarks, Unnatural features)._

Clothing Style:

Superhero Costume:

Family: _(Include Ages & Relationships). _

Short Bio Before His/She was with the Team:

Other:

**_Human Character Form_**

Full Name: _(Also include nicknames).___

Age: _(Needs to be younger twenty-one but older than fifteen). _

Birthday:

Home City: _(They must be from the planet Earth. However, you must describe the region or country they are from). _

_Weapons/Skills: _

Personality: _(Full Sentences. At least a paragraph)._

Personality Flaws:

Best Traits:

Fears:

Talents/Skills:

Weakness:

Appearance: _(Hair Color, Eye Color, Skin Tone, Height, Birthmarks, Unnatural features)._

_Clothing Style: _

Superhero Costume:

Family: _(Include Ages & Relationships). _

Short Bio Before His/She was with the Team:

Other:

**_Alien Character Form_**

Full Name: _(Also include nicknames).___

Age: _(Between sixteen and twenty preferably). _

Birthday:

Home Planet: _ (Be careful. Please don't make them the last of their kind). _

_Power/Ability:_

Personality: _(Full Sentences. At least a paragraph)._

Personality Flaws:

Best Traits:

Fears:

Talents/Skills:

Weakness:

Appearance: _(Hair Color, Eye Color, Skin Tone, Height, Birthmarks, Unnatural features)._

Clothing Style

Superhero Costume:

Family: _(Include Ages & Relationships). _

Short Bio Before His/She was with the Team:

Other:


	2. Gifted

_**Prologue**_

_**Gifted**_

You wake up staring at the grey ceiling. You sit up when you hear a clicking sound. It means that your door had been unlocked. You dress yourself in grey sweat pants and a grey sweatshirt. You walk out into the grey hall and stare straight ahead because if you don't and one of the instructors in the hall sees you, they might make you take another pill. So you stare straight ahead and walk in a steady pace. You turn the corner and enter a room that some of your fellow classmates have deemed 'the room with the chair'. Not a very creative name you acknowledge but an accurate description of the room. It's a grey room with a single grey chair in the middle. You take a seat without hesitation in the cold metal grey chair and you pray. You pray for it to be something easy. You pray for it to be quick. Three instructors walk into the room, also all dressed in grey. You continue to stare straight ahead, determined not to give them a reason to drug you more. As the two male instructors strap your arms down, the female instructor explains to you that they are going to test your ability to focus today. And although you do not do it physically, you mentally release the breath you had been holding. Because focuses test weren't bad. They weren't like agility test, or mental test, or torture test. They start the test after pulling down a screen and projecting the pledge you took when you first entered this school. The instructors file out of the room and into a small glass observing area. One of the male instructors tells you to begin. You immediately begin to read off the screen. Loud sounds fill the room such as bombs going off and women and children screaming and you have to suppress a shudder. Because you wonder how they got all these sounds. And you wonder if you'll ever hear any happy sounds again. An invisible gas slowly leaks its way into the room and it burns your noses and claws at your eyes. You stumbled over a word a little and an electric jolt makes its way through your system. You hear the female instructor command you to begin again. So you do.

By the time you find yourself walking out of the room, it is time for lunch. You can tell due to the flashing light above you. You silently follow the crowd into the grey mess hall where you accept your meal from an instructor. The meal is bigger than others, because you are too small for your age and height. And you have to eat all of it. Or it will just end up being shoved down your throat. Because they want you to be perfectly healthy. So you sit down in your assigned seat and you eat at the grey table with grey chairs and grey tableware. You remember when you first got here. You remember how you asked why everything was grey. You remember how they told you that grey didn't distract you, and they don't want colors distracting you. So you live in your grey world always starring forward, always stoic.

After lunch you enter your classroom that is dedicated solely to you. It is designed to build your gift and to challenge you specifically. You hate it. It reminds you why you're here. It makes you use a gift you wish you never had. This room is the only room you've ever been in that isn't grey. Instead, its walls are glass so they can observe you. And they do observe you. They're always watching, always evaluating. You follow the instructions of the people behind the glass. Using your gift over and over and over again, until they tell you you can stop. And you do.

You exit your classroom and head to the training room. A larger room that is actually full of other gifted children. As you walked down the grey corridors, you see a girl darting her eyes around the hallways, taking everything in. You almost smirk, knowing she must be new. But you can't show any emotion. You can never show any emotion. You almost feel bad for the girl as two instructors direct her to what you call the drug room. Almost. Because even though you know that she was about to intake so many drugs she wouldn't be able to remember the next couple of days, she had to learn. Just like everyone else. Just like you. No one was there to teach you, and you had to learn quick. The drugs were in your opinion the instructor's greatest weapon. They kept the kids in check. Everyone was too drowsy to rebel, but awake enough to be coherent. You figured out early on that you didn't want to be overdosed with drugs. You figured that no matter how gruesome the days were or how much you hated your life, drugs made it impossible to recall the previous day's events. And you wanted to remember. You wanted to know exactly what these people were doing to you. So you pulled yourself together and made sure you took the minimum about of drugs.

You make it to the training room and immediately begin running on a treadmill. You had your specific training that was designed to benefit you. Once a week you would join in a group activity such as swimming, or hand to hand combat. But that wasn't today. It was every Wednesday; it was the only way you knew what day of the week it was. Although there are other students next to you, you do not speak to them. You don't even look at them. Because you know that you're not even supposed to acknowledge their existence. On the third Thursday of every month, you are permitted to interact with your fellow students. Not a day early, not a day late. They were always on schedule. You finish your training routine and make your way to the drug room, your least favorite part of the entire day.

You enter the room and are handed a cup full of pills. You are not allowed to move from your spot until you swallow all of them. So you do. You swallow the pills one after another until there are none left. You know not to resist or to pretend to swallow them because they always know. Always. You make your way back to your room in a daze. You are unaware of what you are really doing until the door shuts behind you. It clicks and something clicks in your mind. Although you do not show it, you are now much more aware of your environment. But you can't show it, because they are always watching. Always. You strip from your grey sweatpants and grey sweatshirt and you pull on your grey shirt and grey shorts that you sleep in. You lay yourself down on your bed and close your eyes. You then fall asleep, finding it best to go to sleep immediately. And when you sleep you don't dream because they have you pumped full of so many drugs that sometimes it's hard to remember your name. And when you wake up the next day you do it again. And again. And again.

**AN: Okay, this story is a revamped idea of mine. As you can tell from the prologue, it's going to be about teenagers who are taken by the government and sort of experimented on. However, the story will take place **_**after **_**the group of OCs has escaped this prison so to speak, hence the title, The Runners. Hopefully this will give you a little more of an insight as to what life was like for the protagonist. I still have open spots. Next chapter will introduce two of the OCs. Please continue to submit and review. **

**Grace**


End file.
